


Hurt.

by awkquafina



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homelessness, M/M, Slow Build, Uhm, alex is homeless, gwash is his dad, he's a dick tho, i'll add more tags as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkquafina/pseuds/awkquafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex Hamilton has officially lost everything. His boyfriend kicked him out, he was let go from his job, and his parents disowned him long ago. The only things he has are the ones strapped to his back. However, what happens when he runs into an old friend that gives him a way out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat.

“Looking for work”

“Hungry”

“Mother, Anything will help”

“Homeless needing shelter, god bless”

I always saw these signs while driving through the city growing up and I wondered what happened to put those people in that position. I was taught to never give them money, that they would follow you and try to harm you, that they were all alcoholics and drug addicts. Just by seeing a hole in their shirt or a cardboard sign in their hand, they are given a label that may not even be true. “They’re homeless because they made bad choices. They’re criminals and druggies. They need a jail cell, not a dollar.” My dad always told me that.

Standing on a street corner in the rain with a cardboard sign has opened my eyes. Maybe it’s my punishment for never helping those people. Karma. Maybe I did make some bad decisions, spending on others instead of putting money into a savings account. Moving in with my abusive boyfriend instead of listening to my dad and leaving. This is my fault.

I shake as the cool rain settles into every crevice of my body, already soaking into my clothes and shoes. It was almost refreshing. The previous weather had been steamy and sticky. I reeked of body odor and sweat, and the rain was slowly washing it away. As soon as the rain stopped I would then smell like a wet dog, which is almost worse than the smell of sweat.

I haven’t had much luck today because of the weather. I usually get a few dollars on this corner. There’s an older woman that always gives me a five dollar bill every Tuesday. She hadn’t been past today. I fold up my sign and stick it in my bookbag, giving up for the day. I have enough for a candy bar and a water, which will hold me over until tomorrow. I walk to the gas station 3 blocks down and shake myself off before I walk inside. The cashier gives me a careless wave, without looking up from her magazine.

I see a sandwich and my stomach grumbles. $5.49. I shift the change around in my hand. $3.20. For a quick second, I think about taking it. The young cashier isn’t paying any attention. I look back at her, and she’s still flipping through her magazine. I pick it up and examine it closely. I swallow hard and put it back on the shelf. I don’t steal. I can’t steal.

I grab the cheapest candy bar and a can of pop. I slide them towards the cashier on the counter. She sets down her magazine and scans both items. “$3.92.”

I sigh and walk out of the gas station. My feet slosh around in my shoes as I walk 4 more blocks down the road to the back of a subway. They throw away burnt cookies, and I sleep behind there. It’s the safest place in town. I dig through the trash and find no cookies today. I grab my stomach. It’s gurgling. I decide I will save my money and get a treat tomorrow. I open my backpack and unfold my sheet, putting the dirty side on the ground. I curl up inside using my backpack as a pillow, my side getting wet from the damp ground.

My life hasn’t always been like this. A few months ago, I comfortably lived in an apartment with my boyfriend George. When he got a raise at work, he began buying prescription painkillers from his friend. He craved them, and was mean when he didn’t have them. The day it all went wrong, he was out of money and pills. What he didn’t burn on the balcony, he ran over with his car. I came home to a burning pile of rubble and remnants of my things in the parking lot. He had snapped. He grabbed my keys and phone and shoved me out the door.

The first thing I did was call my dad. He told me I was a loser and it was my fault. He told me he wouldn’t help me and that he would call the authorities if I showed up on his doorstep. I tried it anyway and he wasn’t lying. I was escorted out of the neighborhood by the police. He was a drunk, and a retired commander from the army. He stopped talking to me as soon as I dropped out of college. I was let go from my job the next day. They had decided to downsize and I was one of the newest employees at the company.

Even laying on the wet ground, digging through trashcans for food, standing on street corners begging for change I tried to look for the positive. I was just stuck. I would find my way. I am not a bad person, and someone will help me. I am being punished for my wrong doings, and I will soon be repented. There will be a silver lining.

As I stand on my usual corner with my sign, I miss the rain. The heat leaves my body sticky and weak. My mouth is dry, but I lost the money gathered the day before. Sometimes a kind biker or runner comes past and spares a bottle of water. That is not the case today. People walk past, giving me their usual judgmental stares before casually strolling along. I put my sign away and walk to a different part of town hoping for more success. I wish I could find my money, I need a drink. I reach another corner with a bench. I sit down and sigh. A harsh odor is released from my mouth so I immediately

As I stand on my usual corner with my sign, I miss the rain. The heat leaves my body sticky and weak. My mouth is dry, but I lost the money gathered the day before. Sometimes a kind biker or runner comes past and spares a bottle of water. That is not the case today. People walk past, giving me their usual judgmental stares before casually strolling along. I put my sign away and walk to a different part of town hoping for more success. I wish I could find my money, I need a drink.

I reach another corner with a bench. I sit down and sigh. A harsh odor is released from my mouth so I immediately close it. A man sits next to me. This is probably a bus stop, or like me he is resting. I feel him look at me, but I don’t return the glance.

“Alex?” I hear next to me. I turn my head to see a familiar face. “That is you! What’s up man?”

I smile weakly. “Jonathan, how are you? It’s been a while.”

“It’s been years! I’m just hanging out, enjoying life the best I can without killing anyone.” My eyes go wide and he laughs, “I help reptiles for a living. Herpetologist.”

Wow. Jonathan had always been into turtles.“Oh, is it fun?”

He shrugs. “It can be fun, it depends on what crazy shit I do.” He chuckles. He looks at his phone. “Hey, I have a while. Do you want to get a bite to eat?”

I smell terrible, and my clothes are dirty, and my breath is putrid. I try to decline as respectfully as possible, although some food would be wonderful. “No thank you, I’m waiting for my bus.”

“I can take you home, Alex. Come on, my treat.”

“I’ve been outside all day, I smell like sweat. I don’t want to-“

He scoffs. “I bet there are far stinkier things in this world. Come on.” He gets off the bench and starts to walk but stops and looks behind at me still sitting. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

I hesitantly get off the bench and follow him. We enter a small café that smells like cupcakes and toasted sandwiches. Hopefully it’s enough to mask my smell. We order drinks first and I just ask for a water.

Jonathan stops the waitress from leaving. “Come on, you can get something else, like a soda.”

I don’t want to take advantage, but he’s offering. “I’ll have a lemonade, please.”

She leaves the table. Jonathan sniffs around. “I can’t smell you, we’re all good!” He sniffs his own armpits. “Maybe it’s because I stink, whoo! Those turtles are no joke!” He puts his arms down. For the first time in a long time, I laugh. I almost forgot what my laugh sounds like. Jonathan smiles. “Looks like I’m doing something right.”

The waitress returns with our drinks and I immediately grab the water, downing the whole thing before she took our order. They both look at me strangely, and I tell Jonathan that I went to work without my wallet and didn’t have anything to drink all day. We order, and I decide to get a chicken caesar salad, because it was once my favorite and I haven’t had one in a long time. I try very hard to politely eat it. I savor each bite, and chew each bite 20 times, like usual so it lasts longer. John is almost done before I am even halfway through, so I pick up the pace.

He chuckles, finishing his last French fry from his burger and French fry combo. “You don’t have to hurry, it’s fine. Like I said, I have plenty of time.”

My cheeks turn red and I try to eat at a regular pace. I set down my fork. “Do you remember when we met?”

“Hah, yeah. You were friends with my girlfriend and I ended up liking you better after we met.”

“She was so mad, but once she realized we were just friends she got over herself and went back to fucking multiple random men. She was happier that way.” We both laugh, knowing it was true.

“Do you still hang with her?”

“No.” I quickly say. He looks at me funny. I lost all of my friends when I moved in with George. He wouldn’t let me talk to or see anyone. “We just sort of stopped talking after a while.” I lied. I’ve been doing that quite a lot, today. Hopefully I don’t get punished for it.

I finish my salad and Jonathan pays for the meal. I thank him more than once, and he just laughs it off. He offers to take me home, and I decline, telling him I had some things to do around town before I went home.

Before he leaves, he invites me to the bar. “A couple of friends and I are going to a bar tonight, care to join?”

“Oh, I don’t really have the spare money to drink, right now.” Now that is a true statement, seeing that I don’t even have money to eat.

“It’s on me! Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Before I can say no again, he already has a pen out writing the address on my hand. “9 o’clock, don’t be late!” He shouts as he walks away.

I sigh, and run fingers through my very dirty hair. I don’t want to go out with friends of Jonathan’s like this. I then remember the shelter, and how you can take a shower there if it’s not too crowded and pick some clothes. I start heading there. Time to get pretty.

I arrive at the address on my hand at 9:45, wearing a bright blue oversized t-shirt and a pair of faded, ripped up, black jeans. I tried to pick out something that looks like someone would go out in, and this was the best I got. I didn’t look bad, and I felt like I was on top of the world because my body was clean and dirt free, and could run my fingers through my hair with chunks of dirt or rocks falling out. I felt accomplished. I’m usually not patient enough to wait to shower there, because it takes a long time for such a short shower, but this was a special occasion.

I walk inside the crowded bar, and quickly spot Jonathan with a large group of people. I swallow hard. I’m glad I got to clean up before I came. I walk over and tap him on the shoulder.

He quickly turns around and wraps his arms around me tight, squeezing. Being hugged had become foreign to me, so I remained limp. At least I don't smell any longer. He’s already drunk, along with a good amount of his friends. “Alex! I am so glad you made it!” His breath smells heavily of alcohol. He hands me a beer. “Help yourself!”

I smile and take a drink. A friend of Jonathan’s looks me up and down, and then looks at him. “Hey Jacky, who’s this cute guy?”

I blush. I never hear that anymore. John puts an arm around my shoulder. “This is Alex. We were friends for a while a few years ago back in college, and just lost touch. I ran into him today and we went to dinner.”

He smiles at me. “’I’m Lafayette, Jacky’s partner in crime.”

I look at Jonathan. “Jacky?”

He shrugs. “It’s a name left over from my fighting days. I dabbled in MMA.” He laughs drunkenly. This guy was always one to fight.

Another man comes over and drapes his arm around Jonathan. “A little cub didn’t come with my drink!” The man frowns.

We all laugh. “This is Hercules. He’s a little intoxicated.” Lafayette says.

They all start drilling me about my life, if I work, go to school, where I live, if I have a boyfriend. I wish I could truthfully tell them, but I elegantly skate around the truth. If I tell them I’m homeless, broke and have no job, it might ruin the mood a little. I’ve never lied this much, but I don’t talk to people much anymore, besides a soft ‘bless you’ when someone gives me change.

After finishing two beers, I decide to leave. I hadn’t drank in a while and didn’t want to overdo it, especially since I don’t have a bed to sleep in. As I attempt to make my way back to my alley, I notice someone following me. I turn around and confront them, figuring that it’s someone wanting money, which I don’t have.

I turn around to talk and he pushes me down onto the pavement, pulling a gun out of his pocket. “Money, now.”

I lift my hands in the air shakily. “I don’t have any money, I’m homeless!”

He grabs my book bag and shuffles through it, dumping everything out onto the ground. He chuckles and puts away his gun. “You’re more pathetic than me, aren’t you?” He throws my book bag at me and I quickly shove everything back inside. I lean on the ground to stand up, and he kicks me, causing me to crash back down. He kicks me a few more times, once straight in the face and then walks away, laughing. I wait until he’s out of sight to get up and attempt to walk. My stomach is sore, and it’s agonizing to return to my alley, but it’s the only place I feel safe. I lay out my sheet and lay down carefully, resting until the next day in hell arrives. This was my punishment for lying all day, and I knew I deserved it.

The following week was rougher than usual. The heat had gotten worse and people were less generous. The old lady with the $5 had stopped passing that corner, which concerned me because that probably meant she was unwell but it also put me in a worse position.

I did wake up on Tuesday morning to a small bag of overdone cookies from Subway sitting next to me. The manager sometimes leaves them for me while I am sleeping, and I am grateful. It’s the small, thoughtful things that keeps me going. I discover water fountains outside some businesses to keep myself hydrated in the warm weather. I had dug an old soda bottle out of the garbage to fill up with water.

The attack has taken a toll on me. My body is still sore, mainly my chest and stomach and bruises remain large and tender in those areas. I am slower, I tire easier, and I sleep longer. I don’t mind sleeping longer. I like sleeping sound, but I am most vulnerable when my eyes are closed. If I had it my way, I would choose to always be asleep, so I could endlessly wander through my dreams without facing my harsh reality.

I’ve seen Jonathan twice in the same spot we had first ran into each other. I avoided him each time, not wanting him to see me this way. I had lied to him, and felt terrible about it. I was being punished for my lies, and didn’t want to be caught inside them. He seemed to be waiting. Was he waiting for me? I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind. He was just being kind to an old friend, and that is all it had been.

As the week went on things hadn’t become any easier. By Saturday evening I had eaten all my cookies and still didn’t have much change. I had strayed too far from the closest water fountain, and my bottle was empty. I was desperate, so I moved into a busy area with many people.

I stood on a crowded corner with my sign, keeping an eye out for police officers, knowing they wouldn’t appreciate me being there. The cars zoomed past quickly and very close to the sidewalk, causing me to jump every time one passed. I eventually started shaking, and knees knocking together and my legs becoming weak.

I suddenly feel something on my shoulders and quickly shake it off, turning around to see a coat lying at my feet, and a very sad, confused looking Jonathan behind me. I quickly try to hide the sign in my hands by shoving it on my open book bag and pick up the coat, trying to hand it back to him. He doesn’t take it. He just keeps his eyes locked on mine. “Alex, what’s going on?”

My shaking becomes violent, and I can’t form words. I open my mouth to try to speak, but all that comes out it foul smelling, dry breath. He has caught me inside my string of lies. He had showed me so much kindness, and I had lied to him. I frantically search for a way out without being followed, but it looks impossible. The crowd rushes around us and I feel my knees buckle before everything turns into a black void.


	2. Perspective.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> per·spec·tive  
> [per- spek-tiv]  
> NOUN - a technique of depicting volumes and spatial relationships on a flat surface.

John's POV

I press on the gas as the light turns green. Waiting at a light has always made me anxious, but lately I was more anxious than usual. Seeing Alex had made me that way. Something didn’t sit right with me about him. One day he just stopped talking to everyone and when I saw him the other day he seemed sad and was quiet. It wasn’t like him. His outgoing attitude was what always drew me to him. He was like a more reasonable version of myself, which I admired.

I went back to where I had saw him a few times, in hope that I could talk to him and see how he was doing. He said he was waiting on the bus home from work, so I figured I would catch him there, but he wasn’t. I just wanted to talk to him again and see if he’s really okay. I needed closure.

I catch another red light and impatiently tap the steering wheel to the music on the radio. That’s when I see a short boy with black hair with a cardboard sign, shaking. My heart sinks, but I try not to think the worst. That’s not him. He said he had a job. He wore different clothes the other night. I then notice a blue shirt and black pants, like what he wore at the bar. I swallow hard, but still try to think the best. I hear a car honking from behind me and realize the light is green. As I pass, I look at the front of him. My eyes start to droop when my suspicions are rung true. I turn on the nearest street and park anywhere I see possible.

I walk quickly, but my legs can’t carry me fast enough. I take off my coat, and as soon as I reach him I gently put my jacket on his shoulders, but he shakes it off and looks back at me, startled. He picks up the coat and tries to hand it back to me, but I just look at him heartbroken. “Alex, what’s going on?”

I continue to look at him as he opens his mouth, and then quickly closes it. Why isn’t he talking to me? I notice that he continues to shake, but worse. His eyes roll back into his head and he collapses into my arms. I look around, unsure of what to do. I’ve never had a boy collapse into my arms before. I scoop him up bridal style and swing his book bag underneath my arm. I run back to my car, receiving strange looks by passer-bys but I wasn’t in any state to explain what was going on. I put her into the front seat of my car and strap him in, using my jacket as a blanket.

I sit in my driver’s seat with a passed out boy in my car unsure what to do. He appeared homeless; I can’t take him to the hospital. I put my hand on his head. He’s not hot, and he’s still breathing. I pull away and speed back to my apartment, only being a few blocks away. As soon as I pull into my garage, I call Lafayette in a panic, knowing he was waiting on me.

“Hey mon ami, what’s the hold up?”

“I have an unconscious boy in my car, come fucking help!”

I hear french exclamations and the phone immediately goes dead. Laf quickly comes out to the car and his eyes go wide when he sees who it is. “Isn’t that the guy from the bar the other-“

“Yes dude, just fucking help me!”

He helps me carefully lift him out of the car and I carry him while he carries his book bag.  
“What’s wrong with him?” He asks as we make it up to my apartment.

“I don’t know dude, he just collapsed into my arms and I couldn’t leave him there.”

I go inside to see Herc and he immediately stands up when he sees me carrying a boy. “What the fuck! I thought it was a beer run!”

“Shut up dude and open my bedroom door!”

Herc opens my door for me and flips the blankets open. I tuck him inside my bed and pull the covers over his fragile body. I turn the light off, shut my door, and go to the kitchen to grab a beer. I collapse on my couch with a beer and shakily take a drink while Laf and Hercules still stand by my bedroom door, looking confused.

Hercules picks up his beer. “What the fuck just happened?”

I put my elbows on my knees and cup my hands over my face with a beer still in my hand. “I don’t know dude. I was driving and I saw him on the corner with a sign.”

Lafayette’s eyes turn into globes. “Is he one of those prostitutes?” I throw my mostly full open beer at him. He squeals and jumps out of the way and it hits the wall. “What? I was just asking!”

“Dude this is serious! I think he’s homeless. ”

“He didn’t look homeless the other night.” Hercules says.

“How do you even remember him? You were drunk!” Lafayette retorts.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need this fucking comedy show tonight. Leave, both of you.”

Herc frowns. “Sorry dude, I’ll stop. I can help.”

“Hercules, come on. Let’s go to the bar. Jacky wants time alone with his sleeping beauty.” He raises his eyebrows in a seductive fashion.

Herc puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay John?” I nod and he gives me a reassuring pat. “Call us if you need help.”

I give him a weak smile. “Thanks.” They both leave and I go back into my bedroom and sit at the end of my bed, waiting for him to wake up. I need to know he’s going to be okay.

Alex's POV

I shoot up from where I’m laying, unsure of where I am. My heart pounds as I try to survey my surroundings. The room is small and dark, but light is trying to shine through the blanket covered window. Pain shoots through my forehead and I lay back down, feeling dizzy. I can’t remember what happened. The last thing I remember is seeing Jonathan’s face. I’m not in a hospital, it would smell cleaner. Am I at Jonathan’s house?

I slowly try to make my way out of the bed. As I lift my weak body off the bed, the door slowly starts to open and startled, I fall back on to the bed. Hearing me, Jonathan opens the door all the way and turns the light on. I give him a weak smile as he sits on the bed next to me.

He frowns. “Okay Alex, what’s really going on here?”

I lightly shrug. “I’m just having a rough patch right now. I’m okay.” I lie. I hate that he’s worrying about me. I want to put his mind at ease, but I also hate lying to him.

“Alex, I saw your sign. Are you really homeless?”

I look down at my feet and my face turns red. “You shouldn’t have looked through my things.”

He stands up. I think he’s angry. I look as his face. He looks more concerned than angry. “I think I have a right to after someone passes out in my arms. I could have left you there, Alex. I could have taken you to the hospital and left you there. Hell, if it would have been anyone else I would have. But I care about you, I’m trying to help you. Can you please tell me what’s going on? I have every right to know now.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m sorry I lied to you. Admitting to someone that you live behind a dumpster isn’t the easiest thing to do.”

“How long have you been homeless?”

I can feel my stone exterior cracking. The emotion I’m feeling is overwhelming. I’ve pushed it away for so long. “Four months.” My voice is shaky.

“I can help you. I want to help you.”

I slowly stand from the bed, my body quaking from the emotion I’m bottling in. I can’t crack now. “I need to go.” I grab my bookbag that is sitting by the bed and sling it onto my back.

Jonathan stands in front of his door. “You can’t leave.” I lightly shove him out of the way and he follows me. I place my hand on the doorknob of his front door and he grabs my wrist. “Please stay here, I want to help you Alex.”

I pull my hand away from his grasp. “You only want to help me because you feel bad for me. I don’t need your sympathy. I’ve survived this long. I would have died a long time ago if I couldn’t handle it. I would have just died in the hurricane like I should have. My time is coming, but it will be when I deserve it and not because an old friend is taking pity on me. Thanks for the help Jonathan, but I need to go.”

I walk out of the door and walk away as quickly as possible. I don’t know if what I just did was the right thing, but I took it as a sign that things were soon going to look up.

It takes a few hours, but I finally find my way back to my alley. Thankfully I find cookies, because I hadn’t eaten in a few days. I was weak and still so tired. I feared that my fatigue had more to do with than just hunger, but I tried to push it out of my mind and press on.

I open my book bag to make my normal bed with my sheet, but on top I find an envelope with the words “let me help you” on the front. Inside the envelope is a large sum of money and my eyes go wide. I cautiously count the sum. $1000. My mind starts racing with many different thoughts. First, what am I going to do with the money? I can’t just carry it around. It will get stolen. Second, why did he give me this much money? Does is actually want to help because he cares, or because he feels bad, or both? I put in envelope in the inside of my pants under my briefs and securely tug my shirt over top. I make my bed and decided to deal with the money in the morning.

The next day I decide that I will try to open a bank account. I still have my ID and my social security card. It’s too much of a risk for the money and my safety to carry it around. I go to a bathroom inside a local restaurant and try to clean up before entering the bank. I would try to put it in my old bank account, but I know George had probably cleaned it out and cancelled it. He needed money more than he needed a boyfriend.

I walk up to the teller and she gives me a look of disgust before she quickly replaces it with a fake smile. “How can I help you today, sir?”

“I’d like to open a bank account, please.” I softly reply, putting my envelope of money on the counter with the written side facing down.

She looks down at the envelope and then back up at me. She picks up the envelope from the counter and dumps the money out in her hand. She silently counts the money and then shoves it back inside the envelope. She looks back up at me. “Follow me, please.” She responds in a polite voice.

She leads me to a cubicle and sits down behind a desk with a computer, and then motions for me to sit in the cushioned chair in front of it. She begins to ask me personal questions for my account while noticeably attempting to ignore my smell. “Can I please have your current address?”

I look down. “Uh” I stay silent.

“I need your address.” She repeats rudely.

“I don’t have one.” I say very quietly.

“I can use the address you are currently residing. I just need an address on file.”

“I don’t have any address. I do not have a home.” I say, a bit more sternly.

She looks displeased by my tone and there is no sign of sympathy in her face. “I cannot help you sir and I will have to report this money as stolen.” She snatches the envelope off the table before I even have time to respond.

“It’s not stolen!” I plead.

“How does a dirty, homeless man have $1000 in an envelope? If it’s not stolen, it’s for drugs. It money is from an illegal source, and I am calling the police.”

“It’s not stolen, it was given to me. Some people have sympathy for the less fortunate.” I snap.

She rolls her eyes and picks up the phone on the counter. “I suggest you leave if you don’t want to be caught.” She snarls as she dials the number for the police.

“I haven’t done anything wrong! That is my money and I am staying until you rightfully return it to me.”

“Yes I have what I believe to be stolen money and the culprit is here and won’t leave the premises. Thank you officer.” She proudly puts the phone on the hook. “They’re coming.” She smiles evilly.

“I don’t care!” I yell. “That’s my money, it was given to me, legally.”

“We’ll see.”

The police soon arrive at the bank and quickly takes the side of the bank teller. They decide that the money might actually be stolen and take me back to the station for questioning.

An officer puts me into a wooden chair in front of his desk and sits behind it. “We had a report of that sum of money being stolen from a home last night.”

I swallow hard. They’re never going to believe me. Maybe my life isn’t looking up. “Officer, I didn’t steal the money. It was given to me before last night.”

“If you can’t prove it, we’re going to have to take you into custody.”

I have an idea. “Look at the front of the envelope, it has writing on it. He wrote a message to me.”  
He flips the envelope over and reads it. “Okay, but that doesn’t prove it wasn’t stolen, sir. Can you give me the name of the man that gave you this money?”

“Yes, his name is Jonathan Laurens.”

The officer chuckles. “No shit. You’re telling me the senator’s son gave you this money?” I wear a confused face, but I cautiously nod. He picks up this phone. “Yeah, can you get me the number for Jonathan Laurens please? Thanks.” He pushes a few buttons and then I hear the phone ring, followed by a male voice. “Yes Jonathan this is Officer Lakes, I have some questions about money you allegedly gave-“ He is cut off by Jonathan. “Can you please come down to the station to confirm? Okay, thank you sir.”

About ten minutes passes and Jonathan comes rolling in and sits in the wooden chair next to mine. He gives me a look of sympathy, and then explains the situation to the officer. I am soon let off the hook and free to leave the station with the money that was given to me.

Jonathan puts his hand on my shoulder before I could run off. “Okay, what just happened there?”  
I sigh. “I tried to put the money in the bank and when I told her I didn’t have a home, she reported it stolen and then there actually has money stolen from a home last night. I just didn’t want anything to happen to the money.” I try to hand the money back to him and he shoves it away.

“Alex I gave you that money. It is now yours. You need it more than I do, and I have plenty to go around, I promise. My dad is kind of loaded, y’know.” He chuckles and then his face turns serious. “I still want to help you and yes I feel bad for you but I care about you. You’re my friend and when friends are in a hard place, you help them out.”

I hold up the envelope. “This is help enough. Thank you so much, Jonathan. Really.” I smile at him and turn, but his hand stops me once again.

I turn to face him. “Come stay with me. I’ve been looking for a roommate.”

“I don’t have money to pay rent, and I don’t have a job.”

“I’ll help you find a job.”

“Jonathan, Thank you, but-“

“No, this wasn’t a question it was a demand. You’re staying with me, the end.”

I want to tell him no, tell him that his money is more than enough help, tell him that I can rough it on my own, but his face pulls me in, and I can no longer refuse. He really wants to help me. I think he really cares about me. My stone exterior once again begins to crack, but this time with a genuine smile.

I hug him in the middle of the sidewalk, I think taking him by surprise. “Thank you, Jonathan.”


	3. Clean.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clean  
> klēn/  
> adjective - free from dirt, marks, or stains.

On our way back to Jonathan’s apartment from the police station, I explain to him what had happened to make me homeless. He remained silent throughout my whole story. When I was finished, all I heard was a sigh and I slightly giggled. “What? Was that a sigh of relief that my story is over?”  
“No!” He responded defensively. “I’m just glad that you don’t have to go through that again.”  
I glance at him softly.“Why do you care so much about me?”  
He keeps his eyes on the road as his cheeks turn red, highlighting his freckles. “I’m kind of a big deal, I can’t be associated with hobos.” He jokes.  
I smirk. “The police officer called you ‘the senator’s jackass son’ when I mentioned your name.”  
“Yes! That sounds like me. Just goofing off, spending Daddy’s money, wining and dining all of the men in town.” He responds jokingly. I look off out of the window, blushing. I didn’t realize he was bisexual. Boy, that makes things a lot more interesting. We both laugh.  
“You know, that day when you took me to dinner was the first time I had laughed in months.”  
He shrugs. “I have that effect on people. If my funny looking face doesn’t make people laugh, my jokes definitely do, or my videos .”  
“Your videos?” I question, worried. I knew Jonathan was shameless but he couldn’t mean those kinds of videos.  
He noticed my apprehension and must’ve realized what I was thinking.“Oh no no no not those kinds of videos Alex! I just do video blogs and things like that for Youtube! Did I not have my Youtube when we were friends?” I shake my head, relieved. “I’ll show you when we get back.”  
I smile as we return to the apartment. It’s like a dream come true that Jonathan is opening up his home to me, although I’m still not sure why. I wish George had showed this much compassion for me instead of his drugs. I still thought about him, and had feelings for him. I knew what he had done was terrible, but somehow my heart had forgiven him. I would never let myself have a relationship with him again, but sometimes my heart still longed for him. Jonathan’s kindness made me miss him that much more. I didn’t miss the anger, the addiction, the control over my life. I missed the love, the sweetness, the attraction. I miss everything we had the first few months of our relationship.  
“Uh, Alex? Are you getting out?”  
I look around and notice we’re in the parking garage. Oops, I guess I just zoned out for the rest of the ride. I get out and follow him the apartment. The smell of old laundry and dishes rudely greets my noise when I walk in. The smell is almost worse than a dumpster. At least a dumpster gets emptied every week.  
“Jonathan, I have a question.”  
“Alex, you can call me John, or Jack, it doesn’t matter. I don’t call you Alexander.”  
I cringe at the sound of my full name. It's full of memories of my father. “Never call me that.” I snap.  
He looks alarmed. “Oh, sorry. Anyway, what’d you want to ask me?”  
“Can I clean your apartment?”  
He chuckles. “Go for it, just not my room.”  
“I don’t have a haz-mat suit or I’d probably do that too.” I smirk.  
Jonathan, or John leaves the room, rolling his eyes. I look around, wondering where to start. Beer cans and clutter lined every edge of every counter space and table. I quickly get started, grabbing trash bags from an otherwise empty cabinet. The box of trash bags was dusty and had probably been sitting in that cabinet the whole time Jonathan had lived here.  
Cleaning actually felt good. I wanted to live in a clean place for once. I appreciate John opening his home to me, but the place was a trash hole. It looks like every time he gets food he throws the remnants on the ground. It also looks like he parties a lot, but I’m not sure who would come to a party here. I’m sure he actually likes the thought of me cleaning, even though he acted annoyed.  
Two hours and four trash bags later, I finished tidying up the living room and kitchen. I plop myself on the couch, exhausted and also in pain from crouching and bending over. John opens the door of his bathroom and his eyes go wide.  
“Holy shit, you cleaned the shit out of this place, literally!” He walks around on the clear floor. "I haven’t seen this floor in months!” He sits down next to me. “You know, I didn’t invite you to leave here to be my live-in maid or anything.”  
I laugh. “I know. I was happy to do it. It just feels nice to live somewhere clean, you know?”He crosses his arms and looks down. “Well sorry I’m not clean.” He slowly looks up at me with a puppy dog face.  
I lightly shove him as I laugh. “Oh, you never showed me your video.”  
“Video? Oh!” He remembers and pulls up a Youtube video. The video is of him and some of his friends being goofy in a small sketch. I roll my eyes as he mouths along to all the words. He sees me and begins to act the video out. I start laughing even harder. I didn’t realize how much I had missed John until he randomly dropped back into my shitty life. I’m glad he did, because without him I probably wouldn’t be alive.

I sit with John for a little while and watch TV until I get tired and go to my room to sleep. My room. It feels nice to know that I have my own room inside a building. I spent a lot of time on the couch when I lived with George. He wouldn't let me sleep in the bed when it was too hot and we shared a room.

The room I am calling my own is more of a storage room currently. John apparently just shoves things he doesn't want to use or doesn't have room for in his room in here. There are boxes of T-shirts and old books as well as an end table and a pile of bed clothes. Luckily there is also a matress on the floor already with a sheet, a pillow, and a blanket.

I almost think about rearranging the room and cleaning it up, but then I yawn and decide to wait until the morning. I strip down to my just my socks, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor and crawl into my new bed. It's the first time in months that I feel safe falling asleep.

I feel safe until I am startled by a loud crash a few hours after I fall asleep. I shoot out of bed and quickly put my clothes on before going into the living room to see John with two men standing around a broken lamp with beers laughing.

He gets up laughing and groaning at the same time, and then notices me. "Hey Alex, what's up?"

I rub my eyes. "Well I was sleeping before you started a demolition derby in here." I grumble.

"Oh." He rubs his head as he chuckles. His cheeks are bright red and his forehead is sweaty. I look at the floor to see a new clutter of pizza boxes and cans. "Sorry Alex, you can go back to sleep. I'll chill out."

I roll my eyes. "Well I'm awake now, aren't I?" I walk over to the counter and grab a beer.

A man I recognize from the bar holds up his beer. "I like this one." He walks over to me and drapes an arm over my shoulder. I try not to twitch. I still feel uncomfortable with people touching me. "I'm Lafayette. We met but last time I saw you, you were a little, how you say, unconscious."

Who I recognize as Hercules throws an empty can at him and it bounces off his head. "We met him before that at the bar you drunk french fuck."

He look at me again and studies me very hard, squinting his eyes. "Bar, bar..." He tries to remember. "What bar?"

Hercules rolls his eyes. "Forget it."

I look at John. "I have a question."

He sits on the couch. "Yes?"

"Why is the lamp in pieces?"

He shrugs. "It just is, I guess."

I roll my eyes again, which is type only response I have to the new mess I feel compelled to clean up. I sit my beer down back on the counter. "Well it was nice to see you two again, but I'm tired." I look back at John. "Please don't break anymore shit John. Please."

He laughs and nods his head before I return to my room.

After a week of living with John, I learned that if I am to get any sleep I have to go to bed after 4am. I also learned that he has a lot of friends, a decent amount of those friends being creepy individuals. He has different people over every other night, and all they do is drink and break stuff. I'm honestly surprised he has any furniture left.

On a Wednesday I get back from job hunting in the evening, something John said he would help me with but has yet to. Surprisingly, he is awake, watching television on the couch in a clean living room. I make a noise of amazement as I enter the apartment and he turns to look at me and smirks.

I drop the bookbag I still use to carry my things on the floor next to the door. "No party tonight?"

He shakes his head and pats the seat next to him on the couch. "Come here."

I sit down next to him. "Are you sick? No party and the living room is clean?" I smirk.

"It was my turn to clean. I understand the whole 'not wanting to live in a trash hole' thing and it was my mess. How was your job hunt?"

I sigh. "Unsuccessful. They're not even hiring at burger joints, and I don't have any talents. I'm a disgusting, undereducated loser."

"You don't have to be fully educated to be a winner. I mean, I went to college and I play with turtles for a living, but we all can't be as successful as me." He laughs and I smack him on the shoulder.

“Well, I mean, I'm semi-educated. I have most of a degree, it's the rest that's missing that makes me unqualified in the real world."

"I told you I would help you look for a job."

I scoff. "Well I'm sorry I'm not waiting on your help to restart my life. I've only been looking all week." I instantly regret snapping at him, as he was already nice enough to let me stay with him and provide for me.

John doesn't seem to notice it. "I'll make a few calls. First you gotta tell me things you like, not things you’re good at. I don't want you to bitch everyday when you come home from work."

"I like non-profits, activism, and writing."

"Writing? Really? I would have never guessed!" He says while poking the notebook I had gotten recently. I had always been very into writing, and John had inspired me to get back into it since I moved in with him. I reach over and punch him in the stomach. He grabs my arm and locks it under his. "Why are you always hitting? So hostile!" I use my other arm closest to him to punch him in the back of the head and I laugh. He reaches behind and grabs that arm too.

"I feel like a pretzel, let go!"

He shakes his head. "Not until you agree to not hit me, sir!"

I squirm but his grip gets tighter. I roll my eyes. "Fine, let go!"

He smiles and lets go. "I always get what I want with a little compromise."

I cross my arms. "That was not a compromise, That was imprisionment."

He shrugs and gets up. "Whatever. I'm going out."

I wave. "Have fun doing whatever." I smile.

"You're not going to ask where I'm going?" He questions.

"I'm not your mother and I'm not your wife so it's not any of my business or concern. Just don't wake me up when you get back and we'll be solid."

"This is going to work out well." He gives me a big grin before walking through the door.

I wake up the next afternoon not being able to breath. I open my eyes to see John sitting on top of me, grinning his crooked grin. I groan and try to push him off but he doesn't budge. I pull the blanket over my head. "Why are you even awake?" I mumble.

"It's two pm and if you haven't noticed yet, I don't sleep much. Now get up."

I uncover my head and look at him. "Remember how I said I don't care what you do?"

"Mhm!" He answers over-enthusiastically.

"That should work both ways. Therefore, get the fuck off of me and let me sleep."He gets off of me, but then tears my blanket off of me and starts violently shaking me. I begin to scream and when he lets go I roll onto the floor. I stand up and charge him, hitting him in the stomach. I look up and he just smirks. That's when I realize I'm not wearing any clothing, just socks. I gasp and try to hide my body. I glare at him. "Get out."

"Not until you agree to go somewhere with me today."

I roll my eyes and sigh. "Take me shopping and you have a deal."

"I guess I can deal with that. 10 minutes." He walks out and closes my door.

I grab my underwear and put them on quickly in case I get another unexpected visit. I grab a new shirt from a box and put it on. John told me I could wear them because they were left over from an event that the clinic he works at sponsored. I pull on the pair of John's shorts I wore the day before. I still haven't gone shopping because there isn't a bus that goes to the mall and I don't want to ask for John's car. I did end up putting the $1000 in a bank account and left $400 in a checking account to spend. I've bought a towel, tooth brush, shower stuff, and some underwear so I have plenty for clothes.

I leave my bedroom and John is standing by the door, ready to leave. We walk to the parking garage and get in his car.

"So," I start as he starts up the car, "Where are we headed first?"  
"I have an appointment with an old friend, and then I guess I will take you to the mall."

"Take me to the mall? Huh-uh, you're going in with me. Shopping for a whole new wardrobe is way too overwhelming for one person."

"But I don't even shop for my own clothes!" He whines.

"Well, too bad. You're my only friend so until I get more friends, you're going shopping with me."

He shoots me a look of sympathy. "Okay." he responds in defeat.

We continue small talk until we get to a small shop called ‘Bloo’, which is apparently run by his friend Eliza. The shop is freelance journalism base, butthey also do art and other commissions. We walk inside to an ironically red lobby with a bright red tile floor and black walls with a big red velvet couch next to a glass counter full of some of their other works. No one is at the counter and the only sound heard is the soft buzzing of a sewing machine and quiet Blink 182 coming from wall speakers. John walks up to the counter and starts obnoxiously hitting the customer bell until we both hear the machine stop and yelling from down a hallway.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP JONATHAN LAURENS AND GIVE ME A FUCKING SECOND."

We both laugh and sit on the couch until the buzzing stops for good and two people come out, one being a man with a freshly tailored suit on his arm and the other being Eliza, with long brown hair and radiating beauty from head to toe. She walks over and gives John a hug, greeting him before checking out the man with the new suit.

"Okay." She says while taking a deep breath. "Come on back, dude." I stay seated on the couch until she stops walking and looks back at me. "You too." She smiles.

I return the smile and get up to follow her. We go into a room and John plops himself stomach first onto her work table. "Do me up, Betsy."

She rolls her eyes at him and motions for me to sit down next to her. "What are you getting, John?" I ask.

He shrugs as she cleans off her sewing stuff and pulls out art supplies. "I basically just let her do what she wants. I told her I want an art piece for my wall, just a simple painting and she drew it up for me and now we're here. I like to watch her work. It's inspiring."

Eliza glances at me. "So you're the new roommate, huh?" I nod. "Are you guys fucking?"

My eyes go wide. "Uh, no."

John laughs and she smirks as she starts the painting on a medium sized canvas. "Hey, just wondering. Are you guys friends then?"

John nods. "Yup! We've been friends for a while. We just met up with each other again after a while."

She glances over again and stops look at the art on the front of my notebook. "That's pretty cool, who did that?"

“I actually did it a while ago. I drew it up before I moved in with John."

"No shit!" she exclaims. "You drew that? Do you have anymore?"  
I nod, showing her more of the sketches in my notebook. "I drew all of them." I grin.

"Hey, you didn't include that in the list of things that you like! And you said you weren't talented!" John retorts.

I just stare at him. "What kind of job that you could find me with art that isn’t lame or independent? And just because I can draw up some doodles doesn't make drawing a talent. "

"A museum?" Hannah jokingly answers and we all laugh. "But seriously, have you ever done commissions for anyone? Because that really is talent."

I shake my head. "I don't like displaying my art openly to people."

"Hey, I see it as adding permanent art to this dark world.” By that time, John's new painting is done. It's a small four-leaf clover. She wipes off the excess paint . "You need the luck with all the crazy shit you do, so there's a permanent good luck charm." She smiles.

He gets up, looks at it on the counter, and then gives her a hug. "Thanks Eliza, what do I owe you?"

She waves her hand. "It's on the house, but don't think this is going to be an everytime thing." She warns, and then laughs. "It was good to meet you, uh." She stops. "I never asked your name because I suck."

I laugh. "Alex. Nice to meet you too."

"Well I'll see you guys around."

"Yup!" John answers as we walks out of the shop.

I grin. "You know what time it is now?"

He rolls his eyes. "Let's go, but we're going to the bar afterwards."

I link arms with him and we make our way to the car.

The shopping trip at the mall was successful, but as troubling as taking a toddler down the cookie aisle at the grocery store. We got kicked out of three stores, but thankfully they let me buy the things in my hands before making me leave. We got escorted out of Macy’s because he was going into detail about his body to passerby, we got kicked out of Pac-Sun because he knocked over a mannequin, and got yelled at in Vans because he was throwing shoes at me. I ended up getting two pairs of shoes, a few pairs of shorts and jeans, some t-shirts and a few tank tops.

We then drop off the car at the apartment and walk to a bar down the road. There were only a few people there and I didn't mind. John said he would pay since I'm still kind of poor and I start downing shots. It had been an incredibly long time since I could drink and get drunk, so I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.

John casually sipped on some Long Islands while I kept slamming shots. After 10 shots of vodka, I start feeling it very quickly. I can feel myself swaying in the barstool. I look at John who appears to be perfectly fine and he laughs.

"Are you okay over there?' He asks. I just hold up my thumb and giggle. "You haven't been drunk in a long time have you?" I shake my head and continue to uncontrollably giggle. He just chuckles at me and picks me up off the barstool. "Time to go home."

I frown. "I'm fineeeeeeee. You can keep drinking."

"I have beer at home, it's all good."

We start walking home and as soon as we exit the bar I fall down and scrape my knee. I start crying as blood is pouring from my knee. John sighs and then laughs before picking me up bridal style and carrying me the rest of the way home.

"Good thing you're small and I'm not drunk." He chuckles and I sigh in contentment before resting my head on his shoulder.

We make it up to the apartment and he puts me on the couch. I watch him go into the bathroom and he comes out with a wet washcloth and a towel. It stings as he washes the blood and dirt off and I wince. He dries it off and the bleeding stops.

He moves my legs on to the floor and sits next to me. "I fixed you."

I lay my head on his shoulder. "You did. Thank you."

"You ruined my bar plans, you know."

I frown. "Sorry. What did I do?"

"You cock-blocked me. I was going to try to score with the bar tender but you got all drunk and shit and then busted yourself. You owe me."

I pick up my head. "Oh. You can go back! I'm fine now, you fixed me." I smile.

His face turned soft and he grabs the remote to turn on the TV. "I'll try another time, maybe." He pushes my head back down onto his shoulder.

"Okay." I say before I close my eyes and fall asleep.

The next few days of my life and spent bumming around the apartment and making my room look like a room. John said he was talking to a few people about a job and although I told him I could take care of it, he insisted and told me not to worry about it. I finally cleaned up all of John's extra junk and put it in the closet along with my new clothes. I found a lamp and a table and made an end table to put next to my mattress. I also bought a curtain and blinds. It finally looked like a bedroom, even though it was mostly empty.

The rest of the bumming consisted of watching television alone and with John. It's hard to actually watch anything with him though because he likes to pick on me, pull my hair, wrestle, and pinch the little fat I have on my arm. It's like having a big brother. He hasn't been home much in recent days though. He leaves at night and comes home in the mornings and sleeps all day.

On Monday he decides to wake me up like he had before, sitting on me. This time, he bounces up and down until I start yelling. He laughs and gets up and I get up in defeat.

"You know, I don't wake you up." I grumble.

"Maybe you should, then we'd be even."

"Why'd you wake me up this time?"

"Because I have a proposal."

I wait and he just stares at me. "And that is..."

"Oh! Yeah, okay. You remember Eliza, yes?"

"Yeah, she's cool." I did like her, she was really nice.. to me at least.

"I've been talking to her and she said that if you were up to it that she could use help around the shop. She needs a desk attendant because there are only three writers there and they're usually pretty busy."

I squeal. "That's only my dream job, John. You have no idea."

"Your dream job is to work as a secretary?"

I roll my eyes. "No work at a freelance base, dude."

"We've talked about this hostility! I can quickly tell her that you suck and she shouldn't hire you."

"And then you won't get money for rent."

"I'll call her in a little bit." He smiles. "Oh and by the way," he starts before leaving. "You should really wear clothes to bed." He winks and closes my door. I look down to see my naked body and once again I roll my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so I write most of these at like two am and a lot of times I get like pronouns wrong and mix things up like that, so if you ever catch anything like that please let me know tha'd be really cool!!!
> 
> also things are about to get real soon


	4. Club.

"Okay, well this is the cash register." Eliza starts telling me on Wednesday afternoon as she points to the large computer sitting on top of a cash drawer. "Have you used one before?" I nod. "Good, then I don't have to explain that. Moving on!" She shows me the catalogue of the different services that they offer and where everything is kept. Then she shows me the different rooms. Three writing stations, two art stations, and two offices in the back. I meet the two artists and a writer. James, Maria, and the writer Tommy. The all smile and nod or wave at me. Eliza tells me that when she isn't doing art, she's writing.

Eliza and I sit on the couch and talk about different procedures and customers and whatnot. "People are assholes, but you have to figure out what kind of assholes you're dealing with. Some assholes you have to be one back, and they back off and are friendly. Others just think you're being rude and respond better to jokes. And some people are assholes no matter what you do and you can't win. Feel free to kick those guys out." She grins and I laugh.

She reminds me that I start the following Monday and I leave to go home. John isn't home when I get there around 7:30, so I strip in the living room and hop in the shower. It feels so nice to have warm water and take showers whenever you want. It feels even better to be and smell clean all the time. I wish John took advantage of things like cooking and doing laundry more often than he does, but that seems like most men.

I dry off and leave the bathroom without a towel, thinking I'm alone. I walk out to see John on the couch with a very perky blonde on top of him. I squeal in surprise and quickly run back into the bathroom. I hear John laugh and then a smacking noise followed by a slamming door. I put on a towel and slowly exit the bathroom again. John is standing in front of the door with a sad expression and a very red left cheek. I just laugh.

"You scared off my booty call." He gives me the puppy dog look and I just laugh again. "It's not funny! I haven't gotten laid in weeks. You owe me, again!"

I feel bad and go into my bedroom to get dressed and John is still yelling at me through the door.

"I'm leaving it up to you to find me someone else. You're going out with me tonight!" He storms in and goes straight to my closet. I pick my towel back up and put it on while things go flying. "Ah-hah!" I hear from inside my closet. He comes out with a very intense pair of shorts, a pair he made me get, and a v-neck t-shirt. "Wear this. You have to look hot so it scares ugly and semi-hot people away, but not too hot to be intimidating to the really hot people. So, this will do."

"You have this down to a science, don't you?"

"Hey, I've been a ladykiller since I was 6."

“How should I do my hair, ladykiller?" I smirk.

He takes me seriously and runs to the bathroom to get a brush. "Do you have any of those pin things?"

I grab the brush from his hand. "I was joking, I can do my own hair."

"Hey, this is serious business!" He warns.

I just laugh and shove him out to get ready.

 

John decides he doesn't want to go to the bar down the street because the guys that go there aren't hot enough, and he can find hot girls anywhere. So he calls a cab to take us to a bar a few miles into the city.

We walk in and I look at John, who is surveying the area. He looks at me and grins, which must mean he's happy with the selection. He grabs my arm and drags me to the bar. He orders us both 2 shots each to start off with and he gets a beer to chase.

"When you start your job, some of these bar trips are going to be on you." He pokes my hard on the arm.

"I am not the one that always wants to go to the bar, therefore I will pay when it's my idea." I waggle my finger at him. He grabs it and bends it back. I pull away quickly and slap him on the arm. "Ow, you're a fucker!"

He shushes me. "You're hostility is going to scare away my prey." He points behind him to a tall brunette with boobs bigger than my head.

I just chuckle at him. "Really John? She's the most fake person I've ever seen."

He grins "That's how I like my one-night stands!" He finishes his second shot. "Look, this is how I see it. I'll go through all the fake ones now and then when I'm ready to settle down I'll find a nice, real girl with normal sized boobs who will be with me because she likes me and not because of my dad."

As soon as he finishes his sentence, I see the brunette tapping on the shoulder. She gasps when he turns around to face her. "You're the senator’s son!" She squeals as she jumps up and down. Her fake boobs swish up and down every time she bounces and it takes every ounce of my concentration not to laugh.

"And you're sexy." I hear him say and I can't help but stifle a laugh at his lame line.

Brunette shoots her head around to look at me and glares. "Is this loser with you?" She points at me.

John looks at me. "This loser is my brother." He says, trying to sound hurt. I just cock my head at him and he winks at me.  
By this point she looks mortified that she just called his brother a loser and just says "Oh, sorry."

John buys her a few drinks and they start flirting and talking. I hear her tell him all about how she's trying to be a model and she tells him about the porn she was in. As soon as she tells him that, they are headed to the bathroom and he winks before he leaves. I continue to sip on the drinks John is paying for until he gets back.

A man sits down next to me and feel a tinge of fear when I hear his voice while ordering a beer. I keep my eyes on the counter, afraid to look up. I hope and pray it's not who I think it is. My hopes and prayers are shattered when he says my name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER


	5. Night.

"Alex." is all George says and I cringe. I keep my eyes on the bar. "Hey." He says again, in his typical gruff voice when he's unhappy. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I jerk back, almost falling off of the barstool.

"Don't you dare touch me." I hiss and finally look at him in the eyes. His once beautiful blonde hair is now stringy and greasy. The bags underneath his eyes are dark, almost like his eyes are blackened and they droop all the way to his cheek bones. I smirk, starting to gain confidence. We're in public. He can't touch me. "I would say you look good but I would be lying because you look like shit."

I hear the bartender chuckle and George shoots him a glare. The bartender quickly walks to the other end of the counter. I hold back a chuckle. "So what are you doing here?" He asks rudely.

"I'm here with my friend Jonathan. He's actually the one who saved my life, got me off the streets after some messed up wastoid kicked me out and left me to waste." I say nonchalantly.

He scoffs. "Alex, stop. I regret what I did. I'm different now. I look like this because I just got off work. I work in a factory now. I'm off pills. I work a lot." He looks sympathetic, and tired. I can't decide whether to believe him or not. "Are you fucking this Jonathan guy, or what?"

I roll my eyes. "No, I'm not fucking him. He's my friend and my roommate. Not that it's any of your business."

I can see hope in his eyes. "So you're single?"

I chug the rest of my beer and slam in on the counter angrily. "Once again, none of your damn business."

He sighs and puts his head on the counter. "Alex, I just want to catch up. I told you I regret what I did."

"I'm am so glad that you regret it and everything, but that doesn't change the hell I went through because of you." I snap before I get up and storm out of the bar. I have no money and no phone, so I start walking. Anything is better than staying there. I stay cautious as the only way home is through empty alleys.

About ten minutes after I start walking, I hear footsteps behind me and I start walking faster. I then feel a firm hand on my shoulder and I hope that it's John but the hand that spins me around in George's.

He smiles a venomous smile and my heart starts beating quickly as I start to sweat. He's going to kill me. We're alone in the city and he's going to kill me. I try to pull away but his grip is too tight. "You are as much of a bitch as you've always been, aren't you?" He chuckles as he pushes me against the wall and holds my body with his own. "I missed you, you know?" he says in my ear as I breath heavily.

"Please don't kill me!" I spurt out. I can't stop the words from coming out. I close my eyes and sigh deeply.

He just laughs. "Kill you? I would never kill you, baby girl. I love you, don't you know that?" I roll my eyes and he slaps me across the face. "I don't need your backsass." I knew what was coming and tried to go to another place in my mind. 

 

__________________________

I don't make it home that night. I stay in the same spot. I don't sleep, I don't cry. I just sit in the silence and stare at the wall. I don't even think. Thinking hurts. Everything hurts. My face hurts, my body hurts. The city starts to wake up and as soon as I see someone pass the alleyway, I try to stand. It hurts, but I manage it and I slowly walk home. The whole way there I just hope that John is sleeping. I can't deal with him right now. I don't to see anyone. I want to lay in my bed. I want to figure out what I did wrong, why that happened.

I make it home and realize I don't have my keys because I went with John so I expected to come back with him. I try the door and it's locked. I just sigh and sit in the hallway next to the door. I don't want to wake John up. I don't want him to see me like this. Thankfully, brunette decides to wake up and dip out. She sees me sitting there and shoots me an embarrassed smile before quickly walking down the hallway.

I quietly go inside and head straight to the shower. I was hoping the shower would be refreshing and make me feel better, but the water stings and more blood than wanted pours from my body onto the shower floor. I almost feel like crying again, but I stop myself. Tears don't help me. Emotion doesn't help me. Feelings aren't real. I feel my stone exterior building back up. I clean myself up, getting the dirt and dried blood off my face, cover my wounds, and scurry to my bedroom.

I put on a big t-shirt and lay in my bed. I think about trying to sleep, but every time I close my eyes I see his face, and him thrusting on top of me. I think of his words, his rough hands on me, his bite, his slap. I can't escape it no matter what I do.  
Sooner than later, John comes into my room to wake me up, but is surprised when I'm already awake. He sits down in front of my mattress. "So how was your night?"

I stay silent, and contemplate whether I want to tell him or not. I keep a hand on my face so he doesn't see my lip. I just look around the room as he waits for an answer.

He sighs. "Are you mad at me?" I just shake my head no. He looks surprised. "Oh, well that's good. When did you get home? I know you weren't here when Faye and I got back." I shrug as I continue to avoid eye contact. He looks sad and gets up. "I guess I'll leave you alone then."

I keep my hand over my mouth and flip over. I hear a sigh as my door closes.


	6. Healing.

Days turn into nights, and my nights turn back into days. I feel like a zombie, or a vegetable. I can't sleep and I don't want to move and I'm not hungry. Everything still hurts and I lay here in pain. I don't know what day it is, or what time. I occasionally hear John doing something but then my world goes silent again. I've officially given up. George has taken the life out of me. He's won. He took my home, my car, my money, my things, my trust, my love, and my life.

After a while, John finally comes in with a dramatic entrance. He slams the door open and runs in. I hear him say my name, but I don't move or speak. He shakes me while saying my name and I groan. I look at him and try to speak, but nothing comes out. He looks upset, panicked, but stays as calm as John ever is. He picks me up and takes me to the bathroom. He turns on the water the holds me while the bath tub fills up. He gently strokes my forehead and rocks me like a child and when the tub is filled, he puts me in with my clothes on. The water is refreshing and I almost feel like a mermaid, revived by the water. I have to use all my strength to not slip under. I close my eyes and sigh in relief.

"What happened to you the other night, Alex?" He asks sadly. I keep my eyes closed and try to focus on the soothing warmth of the water. I've pushed the event out of my head. Telling him would be reliving it, and I can't do that. I don't want to do that. He sighs. "I shouldn't have left you." He picks me up out of the water and wraps me in a towel. He starts to try to take my shirt off and I scream. He jumps and lets go of my shirt. “I’ll go get you some dry clothes. Stay here.” 

 

John walks out of the bathroom, tossing a towel to me on his way out. I don’t catch it. My reflexes are too slow in this state. Instead I slump to the ground, my back even colder against the bathtub with my wet clothes. John is in the other room, rummaging around for something clean. I try to remember when the last time I did laundry was, but can’t. Whether that’s because it’s been too long, or from the exhaustion, I don’t know.

 

John comes back. In his hands are a tee shirt and some flannel pants that are both his. “I couldn’t find anything of yours.” He grabs my hand and slowly raises me to standing. I wobble a bit when he lets go, rest my hands on the sink. “Put these on, okay? I don’t want you to get colder. You’re already freezing.” John reaches a hand up and touches my cheek. He shakes his head at my condition and leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him. I set the clothes he brought me on the toilet and begin to take off my wet clothes. First the socks. Then the shirt. Shorts. Underwear. It’s too cold. I pick up the clean shirt and pull it on. It smells like John, sort of clean and like coconuts. Like his shampoo. The flannel pants are way too big on me. The bottoms drag on the floor, as I walk into the living room. I drop onto the couch. John was sitting in a chair, looking worriedly at his phone, but turns it off when I arrive. He grabs a cup from the kitchen and makes me drink water. I drink the whole glass in seconds and he fills it up and I drink another.

John goes back to the kitchen and looks at the cabinets. "We literally have no food. Damn it." He slightly chuckles at the bare cabinets.He fills my glass up again and brings it back. "I'm going to go get food." is all he says before he leaves. The whole time he's gone I lay on the couch. I still can't move, my muscles aren't working.

John returns with a few bags with a hopeful look but it falls when he sees me still lying on the couch. He puts the bags down in the kitchen and I hear him on the phone. "Hey man I can't make it tonight...Something came up and I really need to stay here...I found Alex in his room, I think he's been laying there for almost a week..no he wasn't dead...I just have to help him, okay?...whatever man, bye."

A week? It's been a week? Is that why I'm so weak, why my muscles won't work? I hear John in the kitchen making something but I don't watch. I just close my eyes and listen. He taps me lightly and has soup in a bowl and he sets on top of me. I just stare at it so he feeds it to me. Halfway through I grab the spoon and feed myself. He grabs the bowl when I'm done and puts it on the floor. He picks me up again and puts me on his lap where I really sleep for the first time in almost a week.  
It takes a few days, but I start to feel like a real person again. I sit on the couch with John, watching TV and drinking tea that he bought me from the store. He told me that tea is supposed to make you feel better, so he bought it. I still haven't talked, and I still am not sure if I wanted to but I decide that I would try to tell John what happened if he asked me again. He has every right to know since he found me and helped me get out of my mess.

I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his chest. He's the only thing making me feel safe. I still haven't left the apartment and I didn't want to. I missed starting my job but John cleared the air with Eliza after she was told about my state. She said that I could start whenever I was ready.

John strokes the top of my head. "Are you ever going to talk again? I miss your voice. It's been forever since I've heard it." I look up at him and he smiles. I just nod. He sighs. "Come on, Alex. I haven't caught a glance of those bucked-teeth in over a week."

"Shut up!" are the first words I say while I hit him on the chest.

He grins. "I knew that would do it." He gives me a squeeze. "Good to have you back." He gently pushes me off and stands up. "You've been laying on me for days and as much as I don't mind, I need to get out of this place.I'm going to go do some work stuff. Wanna come with?" I shake my head and he gives me the puppy dog look. "You've been here for way too long. Come on, the guys would like to meet you."

I just shake my head again. I'm not ready to go out and see people. I'm especially not ready to meet new people. I want to stay in my bubble and continue to heal. He finally says okay and leaves, leaving me alone.  
john’s pov

"That boy does weird shit to me, man." I say to Hercules, rubbing my eyes as I sit on the couch in his studio.”He's almost like a little brother. I want to protect him and keep him from all the bad stuff but then he smiles or laughs or smirks and I just want to fuck the shit out of him."

"That's pretty perverted." Herc says before he lets out an obnoxious laugh. I throw a couch pillow at him and he throws a pair of scissors at me that hit me in the temple.

"Ow! I threw a pillow at you dude." I rub the spot on my head and frown.

He shrugs. "It was the only thing I had within grabbing distance. But he seems to be pretty fucked up right now. You should probably wait to confess your undying love."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever man. I wish I knew what happened to him or how I could help. He was so much better and now he's worse than when I first found him."

"Maybe he ran into someone from his homeless days? Would that upset him that much?"

Then it clicked. My eyes went wide and I stand up. "Holy fucking shit. I have to go." I storm out of the studio and all I hear in the background is "What?" before I make it to the parking garage.

I drive home as quickly as I can and run up to the apartment.

Alex is sitting where I left him and he looks at me concerned. I sit down on the couch and face him. "What happened with George, Alex?" His expression turns from concern to pure terror as he freezes. He starts violently shaking his head. "Alex, did he hurt you?" He keeps shaking his head and begins to cry loudly. I grab his and hold him as he cries and shakes.

He pushes me away hard and starts screaming. "Why would you do this to me? Why won't you let me forget?" He gets up and runs to his room but I follow him as he collapses onto his bed and covers himself with his blanket. I sit down on his mattress but he screams at me to go away.

I sigh. "I just want to know what happened so I can help you. I'm sorry."

He turns over and looks at me with tear-streaked cheeks. "He raped me." He whispers.

I feel the anger building up inside of me. "That fucker is dead." I give him a soft kiss on the forehead. "That fucker will never touch you again." I get up and leave to do damage control.  
alex’s pov

All the terror and pain I experienced that night comes rushing back when I hear his name. And just like that, I can't move, I can't think, I can't breathe. My chest feels like it has collapsed as soon as I utter the words. I want to scream at Jonathan not to leave but I physically can't. I lay face down, unsure of what to do. I can't live like this, I just can't.

I manage to stand up. What do I have to live for? My mom is dead. My dad hates me. All my friends are gone because of George, and George took everything else from me. And John, I'm just his charity case. He took me in because no one else would. I'm like a stray dog to him. When I'm nursed back to health, I'll be back on the streets with nothing to live for once again.

I stumble out to the kitchen and see a unopened bottle of Absolut. I grab it and head to the couch. I'll be the drunk on the street just like my dad always said. I down the whole bottle in one swig and then drop it with a large thud. It comes out just as quickly as it goes in and I throw up all over the couch and the floor. I stumble to the bathroom and try to grab a towel, but I fall flat on my face and hit my mouth on the toilet.

I put my hand to my face and pull it away to see blood. I just start crying. What happened to my life? What did George do to me? I used to be in school and have friends and a job. Why did I ever let anyone do this to me?

"I love you, don't you know that?" It was never love. It was manipulation. All the time I spent with him was a lie.

More time must have passed then I thought, because I quickly feel arms wrap around me and pick me up. I wrap my arm around his neck and continue to cry. He walks me to my bed and lays me down, laying down with me.

"I can't live like this." I cry. "I hate feeling like this, acting like this. What did I do to deserve this?"

John strokes my hair. "Nothing. You are perfect. I hate that all this shit has happened to you. You don't deserve any of it."

"I've only ever been with one man, and he lied about loving me for 3 years. How am I supposed to know what love feels like when no one has ever loved me?"

"Bullshit." John says quickly."You don't have to worry about him anymore."

I sniffle. "What did you do?"

"I beat the shit out of him, naturally."

I almost want to smile. "You beat him up for me?"

He pulls me tight. "Nobody in this world is going to hurt you and get away with it as long as I'm around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks to my buddy grace for writing and beta'ing this chapter for me. she's the coolest.
> 
>  
> 
> CHAPTER EDITED 8/14/16


	7. Out.

I sigh as I doodle and listen to the idle chit-chat of the clients and artists. It's finally my first day, and I already feel at home. Eliza was completely understanding of my situation and wanted me to take some more time to myself before starting but I had to get out of the house. I hadn't left in weeks and I think it was making me worse. Time away from the apartment and with different people would be good for me.

Eliza comes out to get the next client and gives me a smiles and a pat on the shoulder. "You all good out here?"

I return the smile and nod.

"Good. If anyone gives you crap, yell for me and I'll handle it." She winks and leads the person back. I ring up the customer that comes out and I go back to doodling.

About an hour passes John walks in with a grocery sack. I run around the counter and attack him in a hug. "What are you doing here?" I smile.

"Is that any way to greet someone who brings you dinner?" He sets the bag on the counter.

I open the bag to find a caesar salad and little bakery sleeve. I dump out the contents in my hand to find a penis cookie. I roll my eyes and smack him playfully. "You're ridiculous. Thank you though."

"I had to, a new erotic bakery opened up a few blocks down and I couldn't resist."

"How'd you remember my favorite food, John?"

"You're dirtier than I thought." He winks.

I giggle and smack him. "No, stupid! The salad!"

"It was what you got that time we had lunch, and you always request it when I pick up lunch. I just figured you'd appreciate it."

I give him another squeeze. "I do, thank you."

"Well this is cozy." I hear from behind me. I turn around to see Eliza smirking.

I let go and John pulls another cookie sleeve from his pocket. "I got you something."

She takes it and looks inside, and then rolls her eyes. "Really John?"

"Penis cookie?" I ask. "I got one too."

"No." She sighs as she holds up a cookie of two perky boobs. "I think your favorite thing to do is out me, Jacky."

He grins. "If you cared you would have stopped hanging out with me by now."

I slap John. "Friends do not out friends to strangers when unwanted, Jonathan!"

"Oh whatever, she loves it."

I look at her and she shrugs. "That's true." We all laugh. Eliza goes back to work and I say goodbye to John so I can get back to work as well.

 

On most days, my job doesn't even seem like work. The clients were usually nice and fun and had amazing stories. The rest of the staff don't talk to me much but are always nice when they do. Some days though, the shops fills up with idiots of all kinds. This was one of those days.

When Eliza offers to let me go home early, I almost run out of the door. I take the long way home to think and try to walk my stress out. A whole group of men came in today wanting the same piece, and when Eliza told them all seven of them couldn't be fit in today because of the complexity of the piece, they started harassing us. They called us a variety of offensive terms. Eliza finally had to call the police. It was all scary and stressful and made my anxiety from my previous incident kick in. After the police left and Eliza saw my face, she asked me if I wanted to leave.

I am relieved when I finally get home. I open the door to see John and Hercules sitting on the couch already surrounded by beer. I sit down between them and grab an unopened beer from the floor.  
I take a large drink and then sigh. "That is nice."

Hercules takes a sip of his. "Bad day?"

I roll my eyes. "You have no idea. You?"

"Well, being a tailor is hard. It’s such a difficult career choice. What about you?"

"Douchey guys came in and we had to call the cops because they wouldn't leave and it was just annoying and ridiculous." John puts an arm around me and gives me a sympathetic smile. "So why are you drinking?" I smirk.

He opens his mouth to start but Herc starts. "He's in loooooooooove."

I look at Herc and then at John and then back at Herc. "He is not."

"Indeed he is. You wouldn't know it. He's good at hiding it."

I look at John and smirk. "Tell me about her, Jonathan."

He scoffs and finishes his beer. "They're gorgeous and smart and modest and feisty and loving and perfect. They’re a bitch and the nicest person I know all at the same time. They’re one of those people that you can love and hate all in the same second. Except I could never hate them."

"So why is this worth drinking over? isn't this a good thing?"

"It would be, if he wasn't a pussy and would just tell them."

I just smile at him. "I bet they would love the shit out of you if you just let them know." I put a hand on his knee and squeeze.

He just swallows hard and returns the smile before getting up. "I hope so." He quickly retreats to the bathroom.

I look at Herc confused. "What the fuck was that about?"

 

A few minutes later, John emerges from the bathroom a completely different person. He has clean clothes on and he is hopping around the house. He jumps onto the couch and bounces off, over the back onto the floor.

Herc and I just look at each other, and then look at the big ball of laughter on the floor. He pops up off of the floor like toast and puts a hand on both of our heads. "Come on guys, let's go out and party!"

 

I look down and sigh. "I can't do that John."

He jumps over the back of the couch and sits next to me. I feel his hand on my chin as he puls my face up and towards him. "Listen to me ‘lex. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I will not leave you alone ever again, even if some slut is shaking her boobs in her face. I'll just drag you to the bathroom with us." He winks and then smiles.

I shake him off and look down again. I can't help but chuckle. I look at both of them. "Promise you guys will protect me?"

Hercules scoffs. "Bud, look at me. I’ve got you."

I laugh and get up. "I need my fashion consultant to come with me." I smirk.

John gets up and follows me to my room and once again ruins my closet and bedroom floor. He throws an AC/DC tank and a pair of jean shorts at me. "Those will do."

I look at the clothes, and then his black AC/DC shirt he's wearing. "Why do you want to match?"

He grins. "Because bff’s have to match. Duh!" He says in his best sorority girl voice.

I roll my eyes and giggle. "Now get out so I can change."

"What? It ain't nothing I haven't seen before, sweet cheeks!"

"What happened to you in that bathroom?" I joke.

"I became SUPER JACKY!" He yells as he swoops me up and starts running through the house with me hung over his shoulder.

"How does this make you super?!" I shriek.

He puts me down, laughing. I quickly walk to my room and lock my door so I can change in peace. I also take this time to touch up everything. My new fascination is with makeup, because it can just make you look amazing on the crappiest of days if you do it right.

I come out in the outfit John picked out. Hercules grabs my hand, spins me around and whistles. "Damn, you clean up good."

"Hey." John warns as he grabs me. "He's mine for the night."

I blush. "Don't worry, I don’t mind if you share." I wink and then laugh.

John laughs nervously and pushes all of us out of the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's been a while and I'm sorry! school started back so I've been trying to get back into it. but hey fun fact, there's only two more chapters of this left!


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